Paternal Love
by Clotho
Summary: Why didn't Commodore Pellew do more to defend Hornblower at *that* court-martial? A dark explanation


WARNING : Although not really a slash fic this does hinge on a possible male/male relationship, seen at one remove. Also this story contains strong homophobic views. These belong to the character, not the author.  
  
Disclaimer: I own neither the characters nor the situation here. They belong to the C. S. Forester estate and A&E productions.  
  
Explanation: Edward Pellew's behaviour in Retribution has always seemed to me utterly out of character. There's no way I can believe he thought it was necessary to hang someone in the interests of a cover-up, or that he could not have done much more to defend Hornblower. Finally a bleak and twisted explanation occurred to me and I thought I'd share it.  
  
******************  
"We will find someone to take away the smell."  
  
That was the moment of truth. *I* headed that tribunal, not Hammond. That was the moment where I could have said that I would punish mutiny, if mutiny had occurred, but would not persecute men who had been attempting to protect their ship in impossible circumstances. That if there was no malice against Captain Sawyer, I would insist on an acquittal. That lazy oaf Collins would have agreed with the man of highest rank, and if Hammond did not like it he could go to blazes. He was only trying to boost his own arrogance. There was not the slightest need to hang anyone to preserve Sawyer's reputation. If a cover-up was wanted - and I had no qualms about that - then a swift, general whitewash was the best way, the deeper we delved the more likelihood there was of exposing the truth. Making a three- ring circus out of the affair was something only a self-important fool like Hammond would see as good for the service.  
  
The words were on my tongue. I did not speak them. I said nothing. The course was set.  
  
Did Hammond never think it strange that I, the Commodore, permitted him to run things as he saw fit? To persecute the young man whose career I had nurtured, when I could so easily have protected him in court? Did he not find my feebleness uncharacteristic? It seems not. No doubt he was too absorbed in his own self-aggrandisement.  
  
And young Horatio - for so I think of him in my own mind. What did he think? Did he not wonder why I let Clive's accusations pass? I knew from his story that they were lies. I could have cross-examined, and, if Clive had stuck to his untruths, found other witnesses to Sawyer's true state. I let it go, although Clive's lie had placed a noose around his neck. Did he truly think I believed the need to conceal Sawyer's true state worth his life? There was no need to admit the man had been failing for months, a temporary incapacity due to an unfortunate accident would have been acceptable. Clive would no doubt have admitted that if the alternative was full exposure - and accusations of professional incompetence. Even the full truth would hardly have crippled the navy. The future of an officer like young Hornblower will do more good for the navy than any accusations about Sawyer could do harm. Indeed hanging a man admired by so many of the crew would have been damaging in itself.  
  
But of course I knew - I *did* know - he would not hang.  
  
As if I would have allowed that to happen to the man as dear to me as my own sons. A man who deserved only praise and reward for the courage and brilliance he had shown on Renown. Whether he did push Sawyer I neither know nor care, but I am certain he did nothing that was not for the good of his ship.  
  
He reminds me so much of my younger self. At first I tried to resist my growing affection for him, a captain should not have favourites. Yet if he stands head and shoulders above the rest it would be unjust not to acknowledge that. Nuturing his talent, watching it grow, became the great delight of my days on Indefatigable. In loving him as my son I risked having one day to mourn him as such, but I could not forebear from taking the chance.  
  
I never anticipated facing a different kind of pain. My belief in his integrity was absolute. I forgot that he was very young, and youth is vulnerable.  
  
I was never able to care much for young Kennedy. I promoted him because he was capable, and because there is no reason why captain should have to like his officers, but he seemed to me a cocky and insubordinate young man. I could not approve of his friendship with Horatio, but serving together it was inevitable they should gravitate to each other's company. I thought it better not to interfere. Soon enough they would be posted apart, and I trusted to Horatio's good judgement not to be too swayed by youthful comradeship.  
  
So I thought until that day on the quarter-deck.  
  
They were both by the rail. I watched them because I took pride in seeing Horatio there, looking as if he had been shaped for that place and no other. And as I watched I saw something that had meant nothing to me before.  
  
The way they looked at each other. The way they smiled, their eyes dancing round each other's faces. The small movements, like rhythm set to music only they could hear. The way an invisible thread appeared to run between, connecting them.  
  
Like lovers.  
  
*No!* Not Horatio. Not fine, true Horatio, as much a part of me as my own flesh and blood. No, Horatio would not, he was too good, he would never, never do such a thing.  
  
I tried to disbelieve, to deny, but the more I watched the more certain, the more irrefutable it seemed. I had to flee to my own cabin, barely reached it before I vomited. I do not think there can be any pain comparable to that of a parent realising his beloved child has been perverted, corrupted, turned to that unholy thing, a sodomite.  
  
It was not his fault. I am as certain of that as I am of my own name. He is too good to do such a thing by nature. He is not depraved at heart. But he was so young when he met Kennedy first, so innocent and naive. No doubt lonely, longing for companionship. Easy prey. Kennedy was barely a year older, but in some natures debauchery starts young. Of him I could believe it. I never thought him to have enough respect for decent standards. Here was one to whom deception would come easily, whereas Horatio's naturally open soul (he would not describe himself so, but it is true) would never have stooped to such a thing of his own accord. I would not have thought Kennedy so vile that he would deliberately corrupt a friend, but most likely he saw it as no corruption at all. Such men exist, hard though it is to accept, they do exist.  
  
I would have hanged Kennedy from the yard-arm with great pleasure, but I could not. Even if I had had proof I could not have acted without incriminating Horatio. I could send him on a mission from which he had no chance of returning, but I could not plausibly dispatch him alone, nor could I bear to sacrifice innocent men. All that remained was to get him transferred as soon as possible, and though I loathed to see him go unpunished I saw no alternative. Once they were separated Horatio would no doubt recover from this sick infection. His true nature would reassert itself, I was sure of that.  
  
Yet before I could arrange such a transfer I was confronted with orders from the Admiralty, orders to transfer both of them to the Renown. I fought. I pulled every string I could reach, called every favour in my attempt to keep Horatio with me. I failed. The Admiralty would not be swayed. I had no choice.  
  
He was transferred. They were transferred and terror griped me every day that followed. Fear of their being discovered, and Horatio, my Horatio, hanging along with his corrupter. There was nothing I could do. I did not know Sawyer and could not have risked speaking to him if I had. He did not know Horatio as I did, I could not expect him to be convinced of his essential innocence.  
  
Then came my own dispatch to Kingston. Renown was not one of the ships under my command, but still I had hope. Sawyer might be convinced to let Horatio be restored to me. Yet when Renown sailed into harbour it was under the cloud of mutiny.  
  
I can grasp any situation swiftly. I knew soon that if he were acquitted on the charge then this would be Horatio's great chance of promotion. Indeed the Admiralty would not miss the chance to create a live hero as well as a dead one, the choice was not likely to lie with.me.  
  
And if he were promoted he would take Kennedy with him, as his lieutenant.  
  
I could not permit that. I could *not*. If they were not separated now then Horatio might never be freed, he might go through his whole life in thrall to that disgusting perversion inflicted on him when he was too young to know better. Loyalty is his great weakness. I could not risk that. No father could be expected to allow that, to sit back and do nothing. I had to stop it.  
  
There was the chance that Kennedy might die from his injuries, but after I had spoken to Clive that seemed by no means certain. He would not give an outright opinion, but it seemed to me he did not know which way the case would go. I knew Kennedy to possess a sound constitution. I could not be sure. I had to be sure. I had to remove him from Horatio forever. And there was a way.  
  
Although I loathed and despised the man, yet I did not doubt his attachment to Horatio was genuine. He was, I suppose, in love, as such perverts understand it. Strange I should have been so confident of that, and yet I was, and I was right.  
  
I let Hammond have his head in court. I allowed Clive's lies to stand. It was not quite enough, I needed the issue of the captain's fall to be raised, knowing I could count on Hammond to pursue it. I had already summed up Buckland, a weak and envious man. He would crack if pushed hard enough. I pushed him hard, and would have pushed harder, but once that fool Collins saw a chance to amuse himself it was not necessary. The accusation I wanted had been made. I could play my distressed and ineffectual part to the end, appeal for mercy in the sure knowledge Hammond would never grant it. I had what I wanted. The rope around Horatio's neck and only one way he could be saved.  
  
I had already ordered Clive to keep the sick officers informed of each day's proceedings. I was prepared if necessary to visit Kennedy and put the matter to him straight. Tell him there was only one thing could save Lt Hornblower now. But it was not needed, within an hour of court adjourning word was brought to me that Lt Kennedy wished to make a witnessed statement.  
  
My plan was that Clive should present it in court next day. I was not expecting Kennedy to make an appearance in person, but it was certainly an effective strategy. I had won. I had all I aimed for. Kennedy was dead, Horatio free in every sense. Free and honoured.  
  
Afterwards I did shudder at the risk I'd taken. The risk I might have been wrong about Kennedy's devotion. The risk he might have died or fallen into hopeless delirium too soon. I did not even think of those things. I believe I was in the grip of obsession. But all is well. Horatio does not even blame me. I did think he might, but his future was worth that chance. Apparently he thinks that I was as helpless as he. For all his intelligence the boy can be a fool sometimes, and in this case I must be glad of it. He is distressed, but he will recover. I do not doubt of that. All is well. Or so I tell myself.  
  
"We will remember him." I told Horatio. A convenient lie to sooth his first flush of grief. I had no intention of remembering Kennedy and every hope Horatio would soon forget. Yet I find I do remember. I remember the courtroom. I remember his face.  
  
I had not expected that.  
  
Loyalty I had expected, but to walk to the courtroom in his condition took something more. A strength and courage I would not have though any perverted sodomite could possess. Such a nature is a sign of weakness and corruption, or so I have always thought. I think it still. Yet he walked to that courtroom.  
  
Was I wrong about him?  
  
Was what I saw after all no more than friendship? I was certain at the time, so certain, but when I try to recall the scene I find I am not certain at all.  
  
I killed him. I do not shy from that knowledge. I brought about both his death and his disgrace. If I was right he deserved both and I do not regret my actions for a moment. But if I was wrong....  
  
If I was wrong, then I destroyed a brave officer and brought unneeded pain on a man I love as a son. If I was wrong, I am a murderer. If I was wrong, Horatio should curse me.  
  
If I was wrong there are no amends that can be made. So why not let it go? I will never know the truth, for only Horatio could tell me and that is one question I have not the courage for. I have lost lives before, all captains do, for we are only men. Why torment myself this time? Why do I dwell over and over on the same question?  
  
Was I wrong? 


End file.
